


Okay

by BrightParker (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is depressed, Dean's POV, Depression, Oneshot, Sad, Sad Dean, Sadness, Sam is a nerd, Suicidal Thoughts, dean is fed up, sam likes harry potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BrightParker
Summary: Dean isn't holding up that well. But who cares.





	Okay

I hate the cold. 

 

It's weird, because I'm used to it. All the time- when I'm cooped up in motel rooms with shit central heating, or none at all. When I'm out hunting in the middle of a forest, when I'm trying to make my way back to Sam in the middle of the night, drunk and incapable of holding myself upright. I fucking hate the cold- and I guess that's what it is. I'm so used to it, I've forgotten what warmth is like. Not just 'motel room with non shitty heating' warmth, but happiness warmth. I can't really... I just don't know how to put it.

Yesterday I got back to the bunker to find Sammy reading a book. It was probably a Harry Potter book or something, something dorky and make-believe and stupid that he'd picked up from an Oxfam coming back from his drive yesterday- but I stood by the doorway just watching him read for a while. He didn't notice me- he was so caught up in whatever world he'd managed to put himself in. He was smiling slightly. Though his eyes were scanning, like, crazy-ass fast along the page, they still had this weird, far away look in them, as if he wasn't really there. His lips moved slightly ever so often, the words on the page rolling through his mind and off his tongue like something really important. His lips would twitch into a smile or his brows would furrow in concentration, and every little movement in his face was so tiny and almost unnoticeable, yet I felt warm. This warmth just watching my brother so... happy. Content. Safe. I never took to reading, but he'd managed to take himself away from the bunker and the fucked up life we have and plonk himself somewhere away from that. He was probably sat in Hogwarts eating pumpkin pie or some shit, or running round with Harry, Hermione and that other ginger kid, playing Quidditch. I remember, in that moment, I suddenly understood why he's such a nerd. 

If I could be someone else by reading a few words, I'd be a nerd too.

But I've never been the smart one. Reading isn't my strong point, not really my forte. 

So I just stood. And I was warm. 

Then I'm cold, as I realise I'm not really bright enough to ingest a book like Sam does, and I'm Dean, I'm stood in the doorway with bags under my eyes and a sharp pain in my side from the bullet wound last week, smelling like shit will a crate of beer under my arm and the stench of death looming around me.

I don't really remember when I walked away to my room. 

I don't tend to remember pointless shit, like things I do or the hours on end I spend laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The only things that stand out now are Sam. Maybe pie.

Cas too. Cas stands out.

I remember seeing him as I passed his room. He doesn't need the sleep- but he spends a lot of time here, just mooching, sitting around watching the world go by. I remember his slight smile he gave me as I trudged pass, the uncertainty to it, the fondness it spoke. I wanted to return it. But I didn't. At least I don't think I did. I remember feeling it in my stomach- a sinking- or rising feeling, whichever- strange, slightly intense, that told me to do something. But I didn't. 

I'd love to say that I care. But I feel like I need to dig real deep to find it. I'm alive and I'm breathing, but I'm not. It's like it's all slowing down. The word's speeding up as I start to shut down faster. 

How long are human life spans? 

I've served my time already, Jesus Christ. 

But there's more.

But that's okay, I guess.

Whatever okay is.

Okay is Sam. And okay is Cas.

I wish okay was me.

Whatever. 

Whatever

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a oneshot thing that I just got inspired to write randomly. What did you think..? Sometimes thinking about Dean makes me really sad, because He IS really sad. Sam too, of course. And Cas, everything's just really sad, lmao. This show is a masterpiece. I love reading comments, tell me what you thought of this:)


End file.
